


(tell me why) my gods look like you

by adventurousfeather



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: City of Light (The 100), F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:50:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adventurousfeather/pseuds/adventurousfeather
Summary: ALIE’s Key and The Commander’s Flame were never meant to be taken together, in the same vessel. But Clarke Griffin, who has been nothing but resilient and adaptable since her father died, uses Ontari’s blood to accept the Flame, and swallows ALIE’s chip.Set in the Season 3 finale, when Clarke enters the City of Light using the Flame and ALIE’s Key— except she doesn’t quite end up there.





	(tell me why) my gods look like you

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I was cleaning my drive, and came across a folder with my half finished, unposted Clexa fics from two years ago. I thought I'd put them somewhere a little more useful.  
> 2\. When will this ship let me go?  
> 3\. This might get an update, it might not. Have zero expectations. I'm just going with the flow like you guys.  
> 4\. I am incapable of writing stories where I don't give them a child.  
> 5\. I am also incapable of writing stories with proper capitalisation. Sue me.  
> 6\. When will this ship let me go?  
> 7\. Happy pride, you gays.

_so tell me why my gods look like you /_ _and tell me why it's wrong /_ _so I'll wait for you, I'll pray /_ _I will keep on waiting for your love /_ _for you, I'll wait /_ _I will keep on waiting for you_ \- _1950_ , King Princess

 

//

 

ALIE’s chip melts on your tongue, and you can feel the flame tighten its hold on the tip of your spine. your mother stands before you, wearing a worried expression on her face, her mouth moving to motivate you, assure you, that you’re going to be okay.

but your vision swims and your mom blurs, and soon after that, her voice fades away.

.

if this is your death, then your death was as meaningless as the bullet that took lexa away from you. she didn’t deserve to die like that, and you don’t deserve to die like this; with ontari’s black blood being pumped into your system just so the flame won’t kill you, with the coalition in shatters and blood flowing in the streets of polis.

if this is your death, it’s incredibly disappointing.

.

there’s an inconvenient noise ringing in your ear. it doesn’t seem to be coming from a particular direction, but the noise floats in and out of your brain for a while. you hope it stops soon.

.

you see nothing but white for a long, long time.

when you finally open your eyes, your eyelids are heavy and your limbs hurt. there’s a distant beeping coming from somewhere, and you pray for it to stop.

you manage a whine, but it comes out hoarse, and it’s followed by a rustling noise that you hear from your right.

you blink and your sight focuses to the harsh light in the ceiling— you gasp in a breath and you _know_ you’re not in polis anymore.

“clarke, i’m here,” you hear your mom whisper, and she starts to stroke your hair gently. you turn your head and she’s reaching for a button, a red button that lights up when she taps it. “you’re okay.”

you let out a groan, as you take a moment to check yourself. toes, present. fingers, check. you wiggle all of them at once, and you’re glad you’re still complete. however; source of pain? everywhere.

you try to ask your mom what happened— because your brain isn’t quite working right and the light above you is very distracting as it is bright, and your mumbled words come out. “wha’ ‘pened? where am i?”

your mom presses a kiss to your forehead. she’s smiling, “you’re okay, clarke. just getting into trouble, like always.”

“trouble? did i do it?” there’s a dash of hope that you’ve done what you needed to do in the city of light, to stop ALIE and get your friends back, and the smile on your mother’s face widens. if you had done it, how come you have no memory of it? (the back of your neck doesn’t hurt, but the flame may have affected your memories if they had removed it, or if you disabled ALIE. that’s probably it. you hope that is it.)

“it wasn’t your fault, darling.” your mom says. “lexa has already taken care of everything. you don’t need to worry about it, just be still for a while.”

wait, what?

“lexa?” you croak out, and you stare at abby. that’s when you finally notice that something is off.

abby is wearing a light blue button up shirt, it’s crisp and clean, two qualities that you’ve never associated with clothing, even when you were back up in the ark. everything was passed down from families or traded in the redistribution area. your mom’s shirt is new, and there are small, intricate buttons sewn onto it, and you know that it’s not what the grounders’ wear.

her hair is up in a delicate bun, with a strand tucked behind her ear, and she’s clean, but her cleanliness goes beyond what the limited showers and grooming options arkadia has to offer. your mother is wearing make-up, a luxury you’re not familiar with except in the old movies from before the bombs.

this woman is not your mother.

whoever she is, she nods at you. “yes, you remember lexa, don’t you?” the button she had tapped stops blinking red when a man enters your room. he’s dressed in green scrubs, and he immediately approaches your bed and starts fiddling with the machines to your left.

machines you’re hooked up to— you only notice now. there’s an iv drip being pumped in through the tube on your wrist, and a cannula under your nose, supplying oxygen— you presume. you inhale and quickly groan when you feel pain on your chest.

the man looks over at you with practiced sympathy. “don’t move so much, you have bruised ribs.” bruised ribs? how did you get those?

you don’t need to ask, your mother informs you before you could. “you were in a car accident, clarke.” her hand is back in your hair and she presses another soft kiss on your temple. “two days ago,” she adds, with a quiet sigh. “you drove off the road and hit a tree.”

you blink up at this woman who wears your mother’s face. “car?” you clarify, “automobile?” you’ve read about them in your classes back at the ark, watched them rev up and race each other in old movies that you used to watch with wells. they’re pretty things, metallic and stylish, but incredibly dangerous if you’re not trained to use one.

your mother and this man— a nurse, you think— share a look with each other, one you don’t miss. then, abby nods. “yes, an.. automobile.” she strokes your forehead, and it eases your headache a little. “does your head hurt? do you feel confused?”

“very,” you reply, as your eyes flutter shut. “where am i?”

“you’re at the hospital,” she says, “you know, the one we both work in?”

your eyelids are drooping, what did that nurse do to the machines you’re connected to? “infirmary?” you ask, and abby shares another look with the nurse.

he says quietly, “i’ll go get her consultant,” before leaving the room in a hurry.

“yes, darling, infirmary.”

“in arkadia?” if you had been passed out for two days, it would give them enough time to haul you into the infirmary back in arkadia. it would make sense, since there are machines and that glaring ceiling light and modern medicine, but you don’t remember the infirmary being this clean, or well-equipped. you don’t dwell much about it though, because sleep is trying to claim you again and you’re too exhausted to fight it.

“in what?” your mother asks, but your eyes are already closed.

.

your encounter with your well-groomed mother makes you think that the city of light is a very odd place.

or maybe that’s just you, because the flame’s in you as well.

(ALIE promised a place where pain does not exist, and the flame must be protecting you from becoming one of ALIE’s mindless minions because your ribs hurt like hell.)

the next time you wake up, that horrible ceiling light greets you like before, but this time, your very clean mother isn’t there.

this time, it’s your _dad_.

this is definitely the city of light, but you’re still in pain— which doesn’t make sense— and you burst into tears at the sight of him, napping on the chair next to your bed. your poorly suppressed sobs wake him, and he blinks himself awake as he moves towards you to hold you.

“shh, you’re okay, darling.” his voice is just as your remember it, and your hand finds purchase in his shirt and you don’t let him go. panic starts bubbling in your chest because this isn’t real, you _know_ it isn’t, and soon it will be all over.

but your dad keeps holding you and keeps kissing your forehead, whispering reassurances like he did when you got sick back up at the ark.  when you pull away, there’s a wet patch on his shirt where you cried on him, and there’s that soft smile on his face that you can’t forget.

“there’s my girl,” he murmurs. he lays your head back down on the pillow. “how are you feeling?”

your head is throbbing and your chest feels heavy, like there’s someone sitting on you. you’re not in the right state to tell him all of this, so you go for groaning and wincing instead.

he chuckles, “feeling great, yeah? i’ll call in a nurse.” he taps the red button your not-mother did like last time, before turning to look at you again. “i’m glad you’re okay, clarke. you got me worried there.”

it’s too much to look at him, your body’s still too tired even though you know you’ve done nothing but swim in and out of consciousness for however long you’ve been here, but it’s also not enough to just look at him. you want to hold his hand and never let him go, never let him out of your sight.

your body decides for you though, and you fall asleep just as another person comes in the room.

.

you’re getting tired of waking up like this, to a bright light up above you and that constant beeping of the machine next to your bed.

the city of light, they call it. well, if it’s about that damn ceiling light, then it’s definitely enough to light up a whole city. you want someone to turn it off, or at least dim it down, and you flail your hands and let out a whine the next time you’re conscious.

“well, clarke, i’m glad to finally catch you awake.” there’s a man at the foot of your bed, with a stethoscope around his neck and a clipboard in his hands. you’ve never seen him before, but he looks at you like he knows you, somehow. he places the clipboard into a basket that’s attached to your bed, before he says, “i was just checking your progress. how are you doing?”

he starts making his way to the side of your bed as you ask, “who are you?”

he falters in his step and a frown makes its way onto his features. he has light blue eyes and black hair, and he doesn’t look like a doctor that your mother worked with back at the infirmary in the ark.

“i’m oliver, remember?” you don’t respond, and his frown deepens. he takes out a penlight from his shirt pocket and sits on your bed. “dr. oliver neil. you call me ollie, clarke.” the nickname doesn’t ring a bell at all, and you stay still as he shines the penlight on your eyes. he’s checking for vitals, you realize, by the time he unwinds his stethoscope and starts listening to your heartbeat.

“right, you don’t remember me, but you remember your parents, yes?” ollie asks, and you manage to nod. “so, that’s partial memory loss. it’s common for patients that suffered trauma, like the one you went through. it should pass, if it’s not too serious. i’ll have to set up a scan for you, just to be sure.”

“scan? with what?” you ask, and you’re definitely sure that the alpha station of the ark didn’t have the medical technology he needs. that stuff, would’ve been in the real infirmary, which was connected to farm station, and you’re not even sure if the ark broke apart like that.

“an MRI scan, clarke,” he frowns at you. “you should know this, you’re a doctor here. you work with me.”

“partial memory loss,” you toss back, and he grins.

whoever he is, you two must’ve been close here. (whoever he is, ALIE’s using him to get to you.)

ollie leaves you alone eventually, and you look around the room for any potential weapons. you could always break the glass on the door like you did back in mount weather. sitting up takes more time than you imagined, and you can’t help but groan at the pain on your chest. it must be your bruised ribs, you remember from that conversation with abby. you lift up the gown you’re wearing and you gasp at the blurs of purple and green scattered on you, more so on the right side of your torso. you have bruises everywhere else too, with a few dressings scattered on your thighs and your arms. they must be from your “accident”.

a few inches below your belly button, there’s a faint, pink scar that you have no recollection of. it’s long, and it looks like a sword wound or something similar— but where did you get it?

everything is confusing, and the quicker you find the killswitch, the better.

the floor is cold and you shiver when your feet lands on them. standing proves to be difficult, and you have to lean back on the bed just to keep yourself steady. your legs haven’t been used in days, and they ache at the sudden heaviness of your body.

“clarke!” a voice startles you from the doorway, and you nearly fall over when you see who it is.

“lexa,” you whisper in awe, and she sets down her things at the foot of your bed and quickly makes her way towards you. she’s quick to support you, and you’re too shocked to do anything but comply, as she gently pushes you back down on the bed.

“you’re not supposed to be up, what are you thinking?” she says, fluffing up your pillows before pushing you down on them. “if you needed something, you should’ve called a nurse.”

“lexa,” you say again, a little louder this time, and she stops fussing. she stills and looks at you, and your heart lurches in your chest because it’s _her_.

(is the chip making her up? is this ALIE manipulating your feelings? is it the flame? you don’t really care right now.)

her lips form a smile and she takes both of her hands and places them on your cheeks. “hi,” she whispers, before gently pecking your lips. “how are you feeling?”

you try to answer, but all that comes out is a gurgled noise from your throat. your hands grip at the soft fabric of her clothes to pull her closer. “lexa.”

she hums, and leans in to kiss you again. “i’m here,” she whispers, “i’m right here.”

lexa’s wearing a really soft sweater, and the fabric distracts you for a little bit before the entire illusion shatters.

lexa’s wearing a sweater.

a _sweater--_  soft, clean, and knitted.

your hands fly to your sides and you pull your head back away from her, and she blinks at the sudden loss.

her hair is pulled back to a neat ponytail, and you glance down and see that she’s wearing jeans, and the entire attire finally convinces you that something is very, very wrong.

“you’re not lexa,” you whisper, and her eyebrows furrow in confusion immediately.

“clarke,” she starts, tilting her head slightly as she examines you, “i am lexa. i’m your lexa, remember?”

slowly, you shake your head and your hands curl into fists as you push yourself further into the pillows. “you’re not lexa,” you repeat, and your cold tone causes lexa’s eyes to flash with something like hurt.

ALIE’s good, but you’re better.

“you’re not real, stop it.” you hiss when she tries to reach for you. lexa immediately retracts her hand and it falls to her side.

she gulps, “you’re very confused, clarke. you were in an accident—”

“stop it, stop it.” you growl. the sooner this is all over, the sooner you can go into the woods, away from everyone and _cry_. “where is the killswitch?”

lexa stares at you like you have suddenly grown three heads, and she reaches for the red button by your bed. she taps it once, then twice, before turning to look at you. “clarke, it’s me. i’m your wife.”

the title makes the sudden anger in your chest pause. “wife?”

“yes,” her head bobs up and down, her green eyes shining with hope, “i’m your wife,” she says again, and your chest flutters a little. “we’ve been married for three years, nearly four, but we’ve been together for seven, nearly eight.”

you scrunch up your nose. “i’m eighteen.”

her eyes widen slightly, “clarke,” she takes a deep breath in, “you’re thirty one.”

“i’m eighteen,” you repeat and you force yourself to glare at her, “and i’ve been sent here to destroy you, ALIE.”

the threat makes lexa’s jaw fall, just as two nurses rush into your room. you lunge at lexa, ignoring the searing pain on your side and the helpless yelp she lets out. it reminds you of your self-exile after the mountain fell, the way you were feral and wild.

the nurses take a hold of you and you’re suddenly being pushed back down on the bed. you struggle but you’re quickly overpowered, and one of them administers a liquid into the needle you’ve left on your wrist.

your vision blurs, and the last thing you see is lexa’s tear stained face, reaching for you.

.

the sedative knocks you out, for what you think is a long while, but time doesn’t really exist for you anymore, not in this place.

the next time you’re awake, you keep your eyes closed and your breathing steady, and try to distinguish between the two voice talking by your bed.

you recognise one voice as lexa, and the other as your dad. ALIE is getting smarter, but you’re clarke griffin, and you’re not going to be fooled.

“are you sure? maybe bringing her will help clarke remember things. i know her doctor said it was only partial and selective memory loss.”

“it’s not just memory loss,” lexa sighs,  she sounds tired. “it’s something else— you didn’t see the way she looked at me, dad, i thought she was going to kill me.” lexa’s voice cracks, and it takes everything in your bones to stop yourself from opening your eyes and looking at her. “she recognised me, but— there’s something else, too.”

“the results from her scan didn’t show anything unusual.” there’s a bit of rustling, and lexa’s sniffles become muffled, and you peek open one eye to see your dad hugging her, and rubbing her back soothingly. “she’ll come back to us, lexa.”

it sounds odd, for your father to say her name when he never met her, but apparently here in the city of light they have met, and they’re close. apparently, here, lexa calls him _dad_ too, and you’re married to her. it’s too good to be true.

“she— she doesn’t seem like clarke anymore. i don’t know how to say it.”

this little scene tugs at your heart, but you remind yourself that it’s ALIE and she’s using your memories and the people you love against you. it’s a little hard to convince yourself though.

your father opens his mouth to say something to lexa, but he glances at you and catches your eye, and he lets out a long sigh as you quickly close it. you know you’ve been caught because he offers to take lexa downstairs for coffee.

“clarke doesn’t seem like she’ll be up anytime soon, sweetheart. come on.” your dad says as he leads lexa out of the room. when you open your eyes a little, he’s just out of the doorway, with lexa close to him.

.

your chest still hurts within the next few days, but the bruises begin to fade away and your limbs only begin to ache when you don’t move too much. you’re dying for a change of scene, and every attempt of escape is sabotaged by a nurse or lexa.

lexa, who looks at you like you’ve slapped her every time she walks in the room. she has tried to make conversation at the start of her every visit, but each time you stare straight ahead and pretend she’s not there. it doesn’t hurt any less, because every ounce of you just wants to reach for her and hold her, but you know this ALIE’s plot to fool you. you want to give in every time, but you’re clarke griffin and you have people to save, and they come first.

(sometimes you wonder about betraying them and just staying here, where lexa exists along with your dad. you wonder if wells is here too, and finn, if ALIE had managed to make them up from your memories. you wonder and wonder and wonder.)

lexa stays for as long as the nurses allow her, and you’ve discovered that there’s a clock in your room, hanging above the bathroom door. there’s a frosted window in there, and you’ve tried to break that open with your fist, but that only ended in more pain and bruises on your knuckles.

you don’t do much in your room. you’ve tried fiddling with the machines by your bed, but it requires a passcode to change its settings and the nurses have hissed at you before for trying to bypass it. you keep unhooking the tubes from your needle, which earn you more hisses from your designated nurse of the day, along with a chide from lexa.

you haven’t seen your mom since the first time you woke up, and you wonder where she is. you wonder if ALIE has figured out that your very clean, well-groomed mother doesn’t fool you.

lexa doesn’t do much when she visits you too. aside from her rebuffed attempts at talking to you, she reads. the book varies from time to time, sometimes she reads out loud and pretends not to see you settle into your pillows and close your eyes to the sound of her voice. sometimes when you grumble, she reads quietly to herself and forgets about you, and it allows you to sneak glances at her and try to memorise her features.

your hands always itch to draw her— ALIE or not, she’s still lexa and you’re afraid that you’ll forget what she looks like, after this is all over.

raven hasn’t made any attempts to contact you. she’s supposed to be helping you locate the killswitch, but the fact that you’ve been holed up in this room for so long must be worrying them now. you have to be strong, for them, but you also have to be smart about all of this.

lexa’s nose is buried in a device today— a phone, she had mentioned, when she tried to tell you about it earlier. she waved it in your face and tried to gather your interest, but you only looked away and pretended to be interested in your socks.

you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, and clear your throat. she looks up immediately, her green eyes wide and vulnerable, and it takes a lot of your willpower to stop yourself from pulling her close to you.

“you okay?” she asks immediately, her phone still in her hand.

you clear your throat again, before casting a sideways glance at the pitcher of water on your nightstand. you could reach it for yourself, but it would take a lot of awkward shuffling and lancing pain on your ribs.

she’s quick to get up and fill a glass of water before handing it to you, and you drink every last drop. you hand the cup back to her with a quiet, “thank you,” but you make no move to scoot back to your pillows.

“you’re welcome,” she offers you a soft smile, and you can’t help but return it. this is the most interaction you two have had for the last few days. she sits back down on your chair and returns her attention to her phone.

you’re not sure what to say to her without alerting ALIE, but you figure you’ve done enough to alert her at this point, and you’re kind of surprised she hasn’t showed up to give you her regular ominous threats about humanity.

“what are you doing?” you ask curiously, and lexa’s looking up at you and holding your stare. she’s wondering what the hell you’re up to, because you’ve been ignoring her attempts to have a conversation for days and now here you are.

but she bites it and answers, “just looking through my pictures, sorting them into their albums.”

you nod, you had a similar system back in the ark, except you only had one digital photo frame and a limited amount of pictures per family. you know your sole photo frame, wherever it is now, holds a picture of you when you were eleven, taken by your dad.

“can i see?” is your request, and lexa’s hesitant to get closer to you. it’s justified, you did try to attack her before, but that was only because you figured she was ALIE. “i’m just— i’m bored,” you add, and after a few moments of deliberation, she allows it.

lexa moves from the chair to your bed, making herself comfortable by your legs. she holds up the phone and scrolls through the various pictures she has. most of them are of mundane things from lexa’s life; flowers, the sunset, receipts— she tells you that she takes pictures of the receipts of every important purchase she has made, just in case. “here,” she points to the screen, to an image of a small piece of paper being held in lexa’s hand, “that’s the receipt of your engagement ring.”

“ring?” you look down at your hands and find no jewellery there.

she squeezes your arm gently, “i have it with me, would you like to wear it?” she’s got that hopeful look again, the one you keep replacing with her heartbroken look, and you’re not sure you have it in you to make her cry again soon.

you stutter out, “not right now,” and she slowly nods in understanding.

she scrolls through more photos in silence, and your attention is torn between the screen and her face. but you lean in closer to the screen when a picture of the two of you pop up.

lexa explains, “you took this on our honeymoon.” she grins down at the photo, and you offer a nod. ALIE even placed non-existent memories of the two of you in the city of light— that’s smart, you can give her that.

lexa keeps scrolling and you find that there’s a lot of pictures of the two of you. pictures of you eating breakfast, going on dates, sometimes your friends even show up. there’s pictures of raven and octavia and lincoln, and one with bellamy at your _wedding_ , and even murphy. there’s a lot of you and lexa and your parents, along with kane for some reason, celebrating birthdays and anniversaries.

it makes you nostalgic for a life you never lived.

you kind of tune out for the following pictures, and you find it hard to keep yourself upright. you haven’t done anything today but you’re tired, and you let out a whine as you yawn.

lexa smiles at you, loving and gentle, and you really wish this wasn’t ALIE. “you should rest.”

“that’s all i’ve been doing,” you complain. “how am i even tired?”

“your body is healing. you were in pretty bad shape when you got here.” she informs you. her hand twitches and she places it back on her lap. “rest, clarke.”

“five more minutes?” you lean into her, and she nods. you glance at the phone before giving her a look.

“alright,” she smiles. she’s been doing that a lot, it’s kind of distracting. (it’s really distracting.)

lexa continues to scroll through her pictures as you try to fight off your exhaustion. there are more pictures of you and her, and a life you lived together but you recognise none of it. you barely recognise yourself in the photos. you’ve always got a smile on, or you’re pulling a silly face, and in some photos, you’re kissing lexa’s cheek.

you wish you could do that now.

the album you’re scrolling through runs out of photos, and you convince lexa to show you more, if she has more, and she complies. she taps on an album, and the first picture that pops up is a child.

it’s a baby, with familiar green eyes and dark hair, with chubby arms and a soft, purple beanie that says _griffin_. you wonder if it’s a baby picture of you, but you don’t have green eyes or dark hair, the photo itself seems recent, and you don’t notice that lexa’s staring at you as you examine every pixel of the photo. you don’t notice until you look up at her and ask her who that is.

lexa bites her lip, her eyes locked with yours. “that’s—” she hesitates, “she’s ours. she’s our daughter.” you’re quiet as you process it; the fact that you’re looking at a picture of a baby that’s _yours_ — yours and lexa’s.

the baby can’t be older than a year old, and you can’t stop staring at it. “how?” leaves your mouth without your permission.

“IVF,” she replies, “ _in vitro_ fertilisation. basically— my egg, your uterus, and an anonymous sperm donor.”

“but— how?” you echo, and your mind can’t wrap around the idea of you being married and having a baby with lexa and living peacefully without any pressure from your people. no imminent danger around the corner, no guns and acid fogs and wars. a world where you're living, not surviving. “it’s too good to be true,” you mumble.

her hand takes yours, and she gives it a squeeze. “it is,” lexa agrees, “but it’s our life.”

you don’t take your hand back, and your eyes are still on the photo, drinking in every curve and angle of the baby’s face. “where is she, right now?”

“with your sister,” is lexa’s reply.

“i don’t have a sister.” you inform her, and you’re confused again when she shakes her head. “i have a sister?”

“technically, you have two sisters, and two brothers.”

with the discovery of a daughter and _four_ siblings, you can already feel the headache that begins to form on your temple. lexa senses this somehow, because she slides her phone back in her pocket. “i think that’s enough quelling of your boredom.”

you hum your agreement and allow her to tuck you in your bed. she takes extra time to fluff up your pillow and adjust the angle of your bed with the remote. she dims the light— she’s the only one who seems to know that you hate the ceiling light with all that you’re made of— and gently lays you back down on the pillows.

“sleep, clarke. i’ll be going soon anyway.” she murmurs to you, and your eyelids are slowly dropping.

you yawn, “to our daughter?”

“yes,” lexa leans down to press a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, “she’s waiting for me.”

you try to blink to keep yourself awake. you keep holding her hand— you don’t want her to leave yet, but you’re not admitting that out loud. “will you— can i see her?”

lexa frowns a little, “of course.” she adds, “when you’re better.”

you’re not sure when that is.

.

(you wonder why ALIE would take the time to create all these little details in this life you never lived— with the existence of your bigger family, and being lexa’s wife, and having a baby— it doesn’t make sense. nothing is making sense. why couldn’t this be easier?)

.

you start to think, that maybe— between the flame and the chip fighting for dominance over your consciousness— maybe you’re not in the city of light. the threat of ALIE is still looming around the corner, and if she is fooling you by keeping you in here, wherever here is, she’s doing a good job. _too good_ of a job, you think.

you’re still apprehensive, but you behave better around lexa, and you seem to pass the mental evaluation the doctors have thrown at you, because within a few more days, they deem you healthy enough to go home. they call your memory loss _retrograde amnesia_ , and it’s dr. ollie that tells them, “the chances of you remembering will be higher if you’re in a familiar environment, like your home. keeping you in here is useless.”

lexa’s not really here yet, you know she shows up during afternoon visits rather than morning, because of your daughter— you presume. you still don’t know her name, but you can’t get the image of her out of your head.

“we’ll mention this to your wife, to lexa,” ollie clarifies and you fight the urge to roll your eyes, “and she’ll sign you out, okay?”

“uh, sure,” is all you can really say before your team of doctors bid you farewell for what you hope is the final time.

(maybe this is the next phase of ALIE’s plan, to place you in a new environment and make you forget about the killswitch. with the amount of time that has passed where you are, you hope that it’s not the same back in polis. it has been nearly thee weeks since you've woken up. hopefully your friends and your mom are still holding the fort down. you haven’t forgotten about them, but you’re not sure what your next move is.)

lexa is thirty minutes late and you can’t make the knots in your stomach go away. you keep looking at the clock on the wall, watching it tick and tock away to the next minute, and the next, and lexa still isn’t here. she’s usually here by four, with a book and her bag, and an attempt to kiss your cheek or hug you, attempts that you’ve been allowing over the last few days.

she’s still hesitant but so are you, and slowly you two are moving into a silent of agreement filled with gentle touches and a little bit of affection, and no more lunging and threatening.

you remember you still haven’t apologized for that.

(would you need to? lexa is controlled by ALIE, this much you’re sure, but lately there’s a twinge of doubt in your head about everything.)

the door opens and you whip your head so fast it makes you a little dizzy. instead of lexa, it’s your mom standing there, in another crisp button up shirt and dark slacks, with a white coat over it. you remember that she works in this hospital, and so do you— and you wonder what your position is.

“clarke, honey,” she greets you with a smile and you can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. she approaches you slowly and you let her kiss your cheek. “i hear you’ve been getting better.”

“they’re letting me out,” you supply, your eyes searching for more differences from your real mom. this mom holds herself higher, she’s regal and graceful, and she reminds you of a delicate vase.

“i know, i just signed your papers. your dad’s on his way to pick you up.”

that’s odd. you ask, “where’s lexa today?”

“she can’t find a babysitter, so she’s asked jake to come here instead.” your mom tucks your hair behind your ear, and the use of your dad’s name makes you tilt your head in confusion. (who are you kidding, you’re always confused around here.) that’s when you realize that you’ve never seen your parents visit you together. your mom always visits you alone, and your dad comes on his own too, sometimes with lexa.

you’re reluctant but— “are you— are you and dad fighting?” you find yourself asking, and your mom’s eyes widen in surprise.

“no? did he tell you we were?”

you shake your head, “no, no, i was just wondering. you two don’t seem close.. here.”

abby’s eyes soften, and you’re worried you’ve missed something. “oh, honey.” she presses a kiss to your forehead. “it’ll make sense later.”

she’s quick to excuse herself when her beeper makes a noise, and she’s needed in another department within the hospital. she leaves you with a few more kisses on your cheeks, before telling you that she’ll see you soon.

coincidentally, your mom misses your dad by only two minutes, and you wonder if that was deliberate and strategic planning on her part.

.

your dad brought you a change of clothes— a soft hoodie, some sweatpants and a comfortable pair of shoes. he also brought a hairbrush, sturdy enough to tame the wild creature that is your hair, and _deodorant_. it looks like a can created by aliens, and when you push down on the nozzle, a fragrant spray comes out.

it scares the living crap out of you because you’ve only read about it in the ark, and never came across it before.

“you okay there, buddy?” your dad asks from behind the bathroom door, when you let out a yelp because of the intimidating can of aerosol.

“i’m fine!” you yell out, as you shove the item back in the bag and gather the rest of your things. you’re excited to finally leave this room, but you’re afraid that the killswitch just might be around the corner and you’ll miss it.

(you’re afraid that the killswitch just might be around the corner and you’ll have to pull it and destroy all of this.)

thankfully, it’s only a reception area around the corner, and after a few more turns down some corridors, you’re out of the hospital and into the outside. there are roads, and trees and _automobiles_ , and you trail behind your dad and discover that he drives a big, black automobile.

“here’s my car, you remember it, don’t you?” your dad says as he gestures at it. _car_ , you remind yourself, that’s the more used term. you nod, even though you don’t remember it, and you climb into it and make yourself comfortable on the seat.

you know that arkadia salvaged a few rovers from the mountain, but you’ve been in polis and you’re more familiar with horses and carriages. you find that cars are much more convenient, and less like to throw you off into a puddle of mud. (they’re also more likely to cause injury, apparently, as the fading bruises on your ribs remind you.)

there’s some sort of noise coming from the middle section of a car, and after some examination, you discover it’s music. you slowly fiddle with a dial, and your dad watches you quietly.

“you’re usually a lot more animated than this. you’re not being spooked by my car, are you?”

“no,” you look around you, “just curious, about everything.”

he keeps his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. “you don’t remember what the inside of cars look like?”

“i don’t remember any of this at all.” and at that admission, your father throws you a worried expression. you ask, “where are we going?”

your dad answers, “your house, the one you share with lexa. unless you don’t feel comfortable there.”

“i don’t mind.”

(internally, you’re waiting for a slip— either within these made up versions of your dad and lexa and your mom, or within your environment. or maybe raven will get to you first, with a message and a direction pointing to the killswitch.

secretly, you wish neither of those things happen.)

.

your house is big.

it stands two stories tall, and it takes your breath away when your eyes land on it. there’s a car in the driveway, part of you knows that it’s lexa’s, and there’s a patch of colourful flowers growing in the corner of your front yard. it’s beautiful, it’s yours and lexa’s— it’s too good to be true.

but all of this seems beyond ALIE’s capabilities, and you wonder when all of this shatters back into the chaos that is your reality.

your dad leads you inside, and the first thing you notice is the gorgeous smell of food drifting around the house. lexa appears a minute later, with an apron tied around her waist and her hair wild and free from its usual braids.

“hey! you’re home!” lexa beams as she approaches you and your dad. “i made lasagna.”

“smells good, darling. ‘fraid i can’t stay though, drake just texted me, he needs me at his workshop.” your dad looks apologetic— does he have dinner with you often?

“work seems to be everyone’s excuse today, that’s what murphy said to me too.” you don’t have anything to offer into the current conversation, and you’re just content to look around what is meant to be your home. you can’t find ALIE’s signature infinity sign anywhere, or even raven’s raven sign, so you decide this is safe territory, for now.

“murphy was supposed to be watching emilia?” your dad inquires, and you perk up at the new, unfamiliar name. you can only guess who it is, and you think back to the purple beanie adorably perched on her head in the photo.

lexa hums as she nods, “he got called into work though, so i had to stay. thank you for taking clarke home.”

“not a problem, although you could repay me on saturday by cooking lasagna again and having me for dinner.” your dad offers a cheeky grin and a wink, and lexa laughs. it’s a very distracting noise and you can’t help but stare at her with a dumbstruck expression. you’ve never heard her laugh so loud and so freely, and it makes your stutter a beat.

“of course,” she nods, “you’re always welcome here, dad.”

your dad hums, “good,” before leaning against you and kissing your temple. “i’ll see both of you on saturday then, i have to run to work now.” he kisses lexa’s temple too, before he gives you both a wave and walks out of the front door.

you’re unsure of yourself now, standing before lexa. you’re unsure of this world and it’s rules, along with the fact that you have a mission here— that’s even more unsettling, because you have no idea how to contact your friends on the other side.

lexa’s looking at you with a gentle expression, and she takes your hand. “i want you to meet someone.”

you nod as you let her lead you through the house— you discover it’s spacious and cozy, filled with evidence that you do live here. there’s pictures of you and lexa on your wedding day, scattered everywhere, with a gigantic photo framed on the wall in the living room. there’s a pastel green toy box in the corner, and a playmat folded up next to it, and lexa stops just in front a baby swing and lets go of your hand.

she’s beautiful in person— emilia— she’s gurgling and kicking her feet as lexa lifts her up from the swing. lexa coos at her and you’re mesmerized by how gentle she is. she looks up at you and leans in closer to you, allowing you to look at the baby closely.

“clarke, this is our daughter, emilia.” lexa takes your hand and allows the baby to wrap her tiny fingers around your thumb. “you like calling her emmy.”

“emmy,” you murmur, and you feel tears stinging your eyes. “hi, emmy.”

“em, look,” lexa whispers, “it’s mommy. she’s home, you missed her, haven't you?”

the baby lets out another gurgling noise, before squeezing your thumb, and suddenly it’s all too much.

it’s too perfect— way too perfect, and you step back and stumble back on the couch. you try to breathe but your lungs aren’t getting enough oxygen, and you watch through your blurry vision as lexa quickly puts emilia— emmy— back down on the swing before kneeling in front of you. the sight reminds you of the night lexa knelt in front of you, swearing fealty to _you_ , clarke of the sky people, not to _wanheda_.

it’s jarring.

your hands are on your face, your palm blocking out your eyes as the tears flow freely on your cheeks. you’re hiccuping, and lexa is offering gentle shushes and trying to pry your hands away from your face.

“clarke,” she murmurs, and her face is so close to yours. “it’s okay, i’m here.”

“this isn’t—” it’s interrupted by a hiccup, “this isn’t my life,” you sob, before trying to heave in air into your chest. “this isn’t real.”

“hey, clarke,” lexa takes your hands and places them on her cheeks. she says, “i’m here, clarke, i’m real. i can promise you that.”

and she is, you can feel her warm cheeks beneath your fingertips. (it’s too much, too much—)

“you’re _dead_ ,” you sob out again, and you feel lexa freeze in your hands. her grip on your wrist tightens slightly. “you died, i watched you die, i can’t—” you lean down to press your forehead against hers, “i can’t lose you again.”

“i’m alive, and i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere.” lexa repeats, over and over again, until your sobs reduce themselves to shudders and your hiccups finally stop. she starts peppering kisses on your chin, then the corner of your mouth, and you’re the one who pulls her in for a proper kiss.

you’re clawing at the collar of her shirt and she takes this as the cue for her to get closer, and she ends up straddling your lap and tilting her head to accommodate your lips. one of your hands find her hips and it stays there, keeping her close to you. your feel her tongue in your mouth, and let out a throaty moan, and she replies with one of her own.

emilia lets out a noise of her own, a complaint that she’s not getting attention even though she has two mothers present in the room, and it makes lexa pull back and glance at the baby swing. “she’s fine,” lexa murmurs to you, before pecking your lips.

you sigh and marvel at her beauty up close, and you quietly confess, “i don’t remember anything from this life.”

she pauses, and she’s holding your gaze as she bites her bottom lip. “i figured that much.”

“i’m not— i’m not the one you married, and had emmy with. i’m not supposed to be doing this. i don’t belong here.”

slowly, lexa shakes her head and cups your face. “you know what i see when i look at you?” you don’t respond, and she carries on. “i see clarke griffin. are you not clarke griffin?”

you frown, “yes, but i’m not _your_ clarke griffin.”

lexa sighs, “but you are clarke griffin. and somewhere in there, is _my_ clarke griffin. i just have to bring her out, somehow.”

“i’m not her,” you insist. “you’re not— you’re not my lexa.”

she stills, then she breathes out. lexa opens her mouth to reply, but emmy cuts in with a sharp wail. she’s fed up and sick of staring at the ceiling, and you can relate, after being trapped in that hospital room, so you release lexa and watch her pick up the baby and rock her slowly.

it’s a sight you can get used to, you realize. you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of watching lexa just _be_ , and if there’s one luxury you’ll allow yourself during this mission, it’s this.

“she’s hungry, aren’t you, my princess?” lexa murmurs, more to emmy than you. “you must be hungry too, my other princess,” she turns to look at you and your cheeks burn at the nickname. “there’s lasagna in the oven, come on.”

.

lexa serves you dinner with practised ease, like she has done it a million times before. she sets emmy down in the baby swing again, after feeding her, and her little socked feet capture your attention as lexa patters around the kitchen.

emmy is animated; waving her fists in the air and letting out little squeals, and her eyes are inquisitive as she stares up at the ceiling. emmy grips the bib tied around her neck and tries to pull it off, and you find yourself inching towards the swing just to get a better view of her.

her bright green eyes focus on you, and she lets out an involuntary babble. emmy must recognise you as her mommy, because she reaches one chubby hand for your face and it lands on your cheek. you stay still and let her tap your cheek for as long as she desires. her feet are up in the air again, and they’re brushing against the base of your throat. emmy raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth to let out another quiet, humming noise, and you can’t help but smile down at her.

you’ve never witnessed anything as beautiful as emilia— except maybe lexa.

there’s a quiet click to your right, and you turn your head by an inch to look at the source, careful not to displace emmy’s hand on your face. lexa’s standing there with her phone in her hand and a sheepish expression on her features.

“sorry,” she says, as she slides her phone back in her pocket. “you two looked good, i wanted to make it my wallpaper.” you’re not entirely sure what that means, but you nod and allow yourself to smile.

“she’s perfect,” you tell lexa, who steps closer to you and emmy. “are you sure she’s really our baby?”

she laughs, and emmy tries to imitate it with a hum rumbling in her chest. “of course she is. she looks like me, but she’s more like you, really.” lexa leans down to press a gentle kiss on emmy’s cheek. “she’s a loud baby; you and i both think she’s going to be really talkative. she seems to have your sleeping pattern too.”

lexa looks at you with a warm expression, and it falters a bit when she realizes you have no idea what she’s talking about. you don’t have a consistent sleeping pattern, ever since you landed on the ground. you slept while you could, and when sleep evaded you, you distracted yourself with pressing matters at that moment.

(now that you think of it, the only time you could remember have a peaceful night’s rest was when you and lexa ran away from the _pauna_ , when the adrenalin had finally washed away from your thudding chest and you slept on the ground while the commander had watched. even when you were in mount weather, provided with luxuries like a soft, warm bed and clean clothes, you can’t remember sleeping as soundly as you did then.)

lexa explains, “she sleeps soundly all through the night, and wakes up as soon as the sun is up. naps agitate her— i don’t think she likes wasting daylight.”

“reminds me of someone,” you mumble as you direct your eyes back down on the gurgling baby in front of you. you hear lexa chuckle, and it warms your chest and makes you nuzzle emmy’s curious hand on your cheek. she lifts her other hand up and it lands on your chin, and it’s almost as if she’s trying to— “can i hold her?” the question is out of your mouth as soon as you realize that emmy’s trying to reach for you, to be close to you.

you look up at lexa and see the conflicting feelings etched on her face, she’s hesitant to let you close to emmy. “maybe after dinner,” lexa says, placing a hand on your shoulder. she tilts her head at the dining table, “she’ll be fine there.”

dinner with lexa is a little awkward. you can tell she’s struggling with herself on how to act around you, and you’re struggling yourself because you’re very confused about the ALIE and the fact that nothing has happened to you yet.

(where is she? why hasn’t she shown up? are you even in the city of light? maybe it didn’t work and now you’re just hallucinating while your body still rests on the commander’s throne in polis.)

“i have to go into work tomorrow, but it’s only for a little bit,” she says, chewing around the food in her mouth. “raven and murphy are coming over to watch you and emmy while i’m gone.” her eyes land on you, “you remember them, don’t you?”

you nod, but you’re not sure about anything else. you know raven broke free from ALIE’s hold, and in turn lost her memories of finn, but you know murphy never took the chip and never fell for anything jaha told him, so you’re absolutely confused about how he ended up here— in the city of light, you guess.

“where are we?” you find yourself asking, because you know you’re at home— your home— but you remember that you’re not really sure where here is. “the city of light?”

lexa stills, a puzzled look on her face. “clarke, we’re in atlanta.”

“uh,” you vaguely remember the name from your geography class back up at the ark, but you have no idea where that is.

“the city of light is.. in paris, in france.” lexa informs you, and she stutters her words out because she’s nearly just as confused as you are. you know france no longer exists, you’ve seen satellite images of earth after the bombs and the land where europe used to be is barren and reclaimed by nature.

“france still exists?”

lexa drops her fork and it clangs loudly on her plate. “clarke,” she breathes out, “what year is it?”

there’s a stretch of silence before you reply, “twenty-one fifty?”

her jaw falls open and suddenly she’s pushing herself up on her feet, and walking around the table to cross the distance between you. she takes your face in her hands and examines your eyes, for a hint of a joke, or a slip in a lie, but there’s only absolute bewilderment in your blue eyes. “clarke,” lexa whispers and you can feel her breath hitting your cheek. “it’s twenty sixteen.”

you let out a disgruntled noise in your throat and shake your head free from her, “this isn’t— this isn’t real. you’re a hallucination, a product of my mind, of ALIE’s key.”

“who is allie? you keep mentioning her, we don’t know an allie, clarke, or an allison.” you lean back on your chair to avoid lexa’s reach, and you try to ignore the desperate plea in her eyes. “let me help you, clarke.”

“i have to destroy the city of light by finding the killswitch—” you gasp in, when did your lungs start constricting? “raven should be helping me find it, she’s supposed to be helping me— and monty, too—”

“clarke, you’re talking nonsense, please—”

you shake your head and shut your eyes. “you’re going to disappear when i do, i can’t lose you again but— but my people—” you fall off your chair and land ungracefully on the floor, and you’re having trouble breathing, you need air.

lexa’s kneeling on the floor and trying to reach for you, to calm you down, but you insist on being stubborn. “ _clarke_ , listen to me. we are your people. me, and emilia, your parents, your siblings, and my siblings. we’re here, and we’re safe, and we’re all okay.” she whines, she’s clearly as distressed as you are at this point. “you’re not making sense, clarke, let me help.”

“you’re not real, you’re not—” the rest of your sentence is muffled by lexa’s shirt, when she pulls you in and hugs you tight. the warmth of another person against you, along with lexa’s scent sends sobs wracking in your chest. the pain of your bruised ribs keeps you from wailing, and you shudder when lexa kisses your ear.

“we’ll get through this, together, i promise.”

“i think,” you hiccup, “i’m going insane.”

“we’ll go back to your doctor and let him assess you again. this must be a side effect of your accident, your brain must’ve—” she pulls back and shakes her head, “you’re just unwell, clarke. everything will make sense again soon.”

(if this ALIE talking, you’re definitely tempted to go along with everything, just to clear your head and take away all of the pain.)

.

you’re exhausted after your little breakdown, and lexa calls for bedtime— for both you and emmy— as soon as you finish dinner. she leads you upstairs and into a massive bedroom that reminds you of the commander’s chambers back in polis.

it’s fit for a queen, with a soft, gigantic bed against the wall, and a headboard with intricate designs and shimmering gold details. there’s two dressers on the other side of the wall and a mirror right next to another door, which you presume leads to the bathroom.

she’s holding emmy in her arms, who is currently fussing because she’s tired, and lexa’s trying to calm her down. “the dresser on the left has your clothes, you should change into something more comfortable.”

you nod dumbly and let your feet take you to the dresser mentioned, and you start opening it and digging through its contents.

“i’m going to put emmy down to bed, she’s getting cranky.” lexa informs you, as she rocks the baby slowly. “would you like to say goodnight, clarke?”

you blink tiredly and drop the clothes you’re holding as you approach them. emmy’s starting to cry now, and you lean down to kiss her forehead, which causes her to pause. “ _reshop, goufa_ ,” you mumble, “goodnight, little one.” you can feel the exhaustion in your bones and you don’t see the way lexa’s eyes widen at your use of _trigedasleng_.

“clarke, what language was that?”

you’re just so tired, you didn’t do anything strenuous today— besides have a couple of panic attacks. “the language of your people, lexa.”

“my people?” lexa asks, and emmy’s disgruntled and shaking her tiny angry fists in the air as she lets out a wail.

“ _my_ lexa’s people,” you clarify, as you pick up the clothes you had dropped a little while earlier.

lexa doesn’t push any further, she only nods. “right. i’ll put emmy to bed now,” she says before leaving the room quietly.

this isn’t your world, and you still can’t figure out why you got sent to this fucked up version of the city of light. maybe it was ALIE’s plan, to distract you from the killswitch. whatever it is, you’ll figure it out tomorrow.

.

you only have a vague recollection of shedding your clothes at the foot of the bed and not even bothering with the intended sleep clothes lexa had offered you. the bed is enticing and you can’t resist falling into and curling underneath the comforter. you inhale lexa’s scent from the pillows, and soon you’re deep in sleep.

you have absolutely no recollection of lexa coming into the room and folding your clothes neatly, before placing them at the foot of the bed. you don’t remember listening to her get changed and brushing her teeth in the bathroom, before planting a kiss on your forehead and murmuring, “i love you.”

.

you don’t dream, you notice, ever since you’ve been deposited in this strange hallucination by the flame and ALIE’s key. whenever you sleep, it just feels like you’re floating in darkness, waiting to wake up again.

tonight, however, you sleep and actually feel refreshed when you wake up, so refreshed that it takes you a moment to notice the wailing noise coming from down the hall.

it’s emmy, and your body stiffens and you’re suddenly up on your feet, following the source of her cries. you stumble in the dark and end up in emmy’s room, which is dim, save for the soft glow of the night light on the wall.

lexa’s already there, and she’s already holding emmy close, whispering and singing quietly in the baby’s ear. emmy calms down immediately, feeling safe in her mother’s arms, but she still lets out a few soft cries as lexa rocks her back to sleep.

your heavy feet alerted lexa of your presence, and she turns to you with sleepy eyes. “go back to bed, i’ve got her.”

emmy’s fine, you can see, but there’s still something thudding in your chest and it won’t go away until you’re sure. you approach lexa and try to see the baby over her shoulder, and lexa must notice your concern, because she turns and allows you to see more of emmy.

“see?” she murmurs, and the baby finally quiets down as she falls back asleep. “safe and sound.”

“i thought she was in danger,” your voice is rough from sleep, and you try to speak quietly.

lexa furrows her eyebrows, “there’s no danger here, clarke. we’re all safe.”

too good to be true, you nearly mumble out, but instead you nod and give emmy’s foot a light squeeze. “right, goodnight again, _heda_.” you say, as you walk out, and you only catch a little of lexa’s confused, quiet reply.

“goodnight, clarke.”

.

sleep doesn’t take you the way it did earlier, and you find yourself tossing and turning after you’ve returned to bed. there’s footsteps approaching the room, and you stay still as lexa comes in and pads quietly by the side of your bed.

“lexa?” you whisper in the dark, “you didn’t sleep here.”

she pauses, before reaching over to turn the lamp on. you blink at the source of sudden brightness. “no, i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. i slept in the guest room.” she’s got a wire in her hand, and you look at it questioningly. she waves it slightly, “phone charger.”

you nod and settle back on the pillows, trying to discreetly inhale more of lexa’s scent and send yourself to sleep, but lexa’s still standing there, shifting her weight on her heels.

“clarke,” she quietly inquires, “your memories—” lexa catches her bottom lip between her teeth before she continues. “you didn’t lose your memories, you have different ones.”

you peer up at her, before nodding slightly.

lexa carries on, “you move differently, you carry yourself like you're not the clarke i married. you talk as if you lived in another world, with another me.” then, she adds, “in twenty-one fifty?” she watches you nod, and slowly, she settles down on the bed next to you. “will you tell me about it?”

“my world?”

“yes,” she places the phone charger on the nightstand and turns to you. “i told you, i want to help you. i’m with you, for better or worse.”

the last phrase seems to ring in your head and remind you of wedding vows you never uttered, but you sigh. “okay, but tomorrow?”

“sure, tomorrow.”

(tomorrow, you’ve decided, you’re going to look for that damned killswitch and end this cruel illusion, once and for all. after that, you’re banishing yourself in the woods, _permanently_ , this time, because you don’t have it in you to be the hero anymore. you’ve given your people enough.

besides, you’ll be insignificant to the next commander, and they won’t send for another bounty hunter to capture you, unlike your last self-exile.)  



End file.
